


The Best Woman

by pearlydewdrop



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Cousins, Family Feels, Flashbacks, Found Family, Future Fic, Gen, Girl Power, Humor, Michelle is a LEGEND!, Speeches, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28390044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlydewdrop/pseuds/pearlydewdrop
Summary: "Oi, you lot! Shut it!", she demanded, rapping the side of the nearest wine glass until her spellbound (and slightly terrified) audience had obediently put a sock in it.Michelle Mallon was the best-woman...and by christ, was her speech going to be absolutely epic!
Relationships: James Maguire & Michelle Mallon, James Maguire/Erin Quinn, Michelle Mallon & Erin Quinn, The Friendship Between All Five Derry Girls
Comments: 20
Kudos: 37





	1. The Speech

_**2007** _

Rather cock-suredly, Michelle Mallon pretended not to notice the almost identical warning glares that she'd received from either end of the top table.

One from Mary Quinn, the other from her own Ma.

"Oi, you lot! Shut it!", she demanded, rapping the side of the nearest wine glass until her spellbound ( _and slightly terrified)_ audience had obediently put a sock in it.

"Righto!", Michelle began, popping up out of her seat like a liqored up and very expressive jack-in-the-box.

"It's totally cracker that ye're all here. Yer lookin' well...yadayada. Remember, if you fancy thankin' someone for suggestin' the open-bar, look no further! Here she is!"

No response. Rough crowd.

Glancing down for a split second, the twenty eight year old Mallon eyed her notes with mild disdain...the best-man _(or rather best-woman!)_ speech in front of her had been approved by Erin, James, Clare, Mrs Quinn and fuck knows who else had gotten in on the act.

By Christ, it was dull!

If you asked Michelle, good oul Colm McCool had definitely had a good strong look-in if the absolute shite scribbled down in front of her was anything to go by.

 _Power of love? Anglo-Irish romance during The Troubles?_ What a load of balls!

As a characteristically impulsive last minute decision, she tossed the pre-approved speech aside, feeling Mrs Quinn's eyes bore into her as she did.

Instead Michelle decidedly glanced away from the room of bug-eyed wedding guests, gaze landing on her friend and cousin.

Despite her fairly distinctive (meaning _totally class and under appreciated!_ ) opening, Michelle was damn well certain that there wasn't anything in the wide earthly world that could wipe the big, dopey _(and visible from the fucking moon!)_ smiles off of Erin and James's faces.

And if anyone tried...well, they'd surely have Michelle to deal with!

True, James and Erin were absolute doses but they were _her doses._ They were her family, her best mates and, alongside Clare and Orla, they were _her girls._

So naturally, it was Michelle's job to embarrass the living daylights out of them on their wedding day! Go figure!

"Let's be honest...", she asked rhetorically, a glint of mischief sparkling in her eyes as she returned her attention from her two loved-up mates to the crowd of expectant onlookers before her.

_They surely didn't know what was about to hit them!_

"...I reckon we'd all agree that this is the only way things could've worked out. Like, I love 'em both but James is a total _total_ ball-ache and Erin's the biggest busy-body known to man. No one else would put up with either of 'em..."


	2. The Scrape

_**Sometime in the 90s...** _

"Not a word to Mammy!", Erin demanded as the whole gang bundled in the door of the Quinn's house. "Sister Michael already rang her twice this week, if she gets wind of this she'll be servin' me with curry sauce!"

Michelle rolled her eyes. In her opinion, it was the only half sensible response available when Erin was less than two seconds away from completely flying off the handle.

Truth be told, the whole of Derry knew that Mary Quinn ran her house with an iron fist but even she could hardly blame them for being home late given the circumstances.

When choosing to get in a scuffle with Jenny Joyce and her flock, how could they have forseen that there would be a whole live fucking bomb blocking their way home?

They didn't have Sarah McCool's witchy powers, so they didn't!

"Ach, Erin. Cool yer tits", Michelle dismissed. "It was that blasted soldiers' fault. We asked 'em to let us pass the lines, but would they listen? Bastards...they're always around when they're not wanted."

Orla smiled vaguely at the memory of their latest misadventure. You'd swear as though ( _in her eyes!_ ) they hadn't just been in close proximity to a whole fucking incendiary device at all.

"D'ya think they'd loan me one of their wee beekeepers costumes for Halloween? I'd look fair class!"

Erin continued to eye the kitchen door cautiously, still waiting for her Ma to materialise ( _wooden spoon in hand!)_ and give them hell.

Soldiers _(and shite-talking school prefects, for that matter!)_ may be head melting nuisances from time to time, but a pissed off Mary Quinn was a whole other kettle of fish!

"Aye, so you would", she replied without looking at her cousin, voice dripping with sarcasm.

James shrugged out of his jacket, marginally less freaked out than he had been on previous occasions when he'd realised that his own Mum had knowingly dropped him like a hot-cake head first into the middle of a bloody sectarian conflict.

"At least we're all back in one piece anyway", he offered optimistically, wincing as both Erin and Clare glared openly at him.

"Back in one piece?", Clare questioned, her voice gaining exponential pitch and momentum in two seconds flat.

Michelle huffed, knowing exactly where their resident worry-wart's tirade would inevitably lead...to the lot of them being totally grassed.

"Back in one piece? Is that what you think, James? If Erin hadn't gotten us into that stupid bloody scrap with Jenny Joyce then we could've left early. Just as we were supposed to! Then we would've been home on time...bomb or no bomb!"

"Oi, pipe down Clare! Snitches get stitches!"

"What's this about a scrap with Jenny Joyce?"

Erin whirled around, her face falling almost comically under the disapproving gaze of her mother.

Mary stood at the kitchen door, eyeing each of the teenagers in turn. She looked expectantly at them for an explanation, as if any of the shite that they routinely got themselves landed in could be so easily explained.

"Not so much a scrap, Mammy", Erin spluttered, her eyes narrowing as she caught Clare's gaze over her shoulder. "It was more of a..."

Orla grinned up at her Aunt, completely cutting across her cousin. "The wee beekeeper fellas were out again, Aunt Mary", she reported cheerfully. "They stopped us all on the way home."

Mary sighed, her irritated gaze returning to Erin.

"What've I told ya about leavin' places early when ye're out at night? Ya need to be prepared if there's another bomb! And stop starting things with that Joyce girl, it'll only cause ye all more grief in the long run!"

"Ach, Mammy", Erin began, arms crossed in frustration. "It's not my fault, she's an absolutely b-."

Before Erin could start up a whole tirade about Jenny Joyce ( _and only get told off for it by her Ma for the unavoidable expletives that would roll of the tongue)_ , someone rather unexpected piped up in her defence.

"It was my fault we got held up, Mrs Quinn. Not Erin's!"

Whirling around to face her wee English prick of a cousin, Michelle raised her eyebrow in genuine surprise. 

_Was James...taking the heat for Erin? Holy fuck, wasn't that a new one!_

Looking at the very brink of a shouting match with her daughter, Mary's eyes softened slightly as she took in the sight of the curly haired English boy. Of all the teenagers lined up before her, the least likely to purposefully cause trouble ( _the key word being purposefully!)_ was Deirdre Mallon's wee nephew.

"Is that so?"

"That's right, Mrs Quinn", he replied, seemingly oblivious to how he was the shittest liar to ever walk the face of the earth. "I'm really sorry we ending up getting back late."

Erin's Ma was no eejit and Michelle knew that she definitely _definitely_ hadn't bought James's daft cover story. However, for some mad and completely unexpected reason the older woman decided not to push the matter any further.

"A'right, son", she said, playing along. "But you keep yer nose out of it in future, ya hear me?"

"Of course, Mrs Quinn."

Michelle frowned, watching James and Erin suspiciously.

Little did they know, she'd caught on to the grateful smile and hand squeeze that had passed between them as Mary herded them all upstairs. _Boke!_

Even after eleven years of Catholic schooling, Michelle Mallon had a hidden talent...a sixth sense if you will. She always _always_ knew who wanted to ride who.

Call it a gift or call it a curse ( _in this case, definitely a curse)_ , Michelle had it in good faith that her talent was absolutely foulproof!

James was tryna ride Erin! And, even worse, Erin seemed to want to ride James!

This was an absolute disaster!


	3. The Good Friday Agreement

_**1998** _

Looking back, the oul banger that Michelle's brother Ryan had managed to get a hold of for her was truly a rusted through piece of crap. It's chassis was next-door near to falling to bits, the seat belts were nonexistent and it's mirrors were wonky as fuck...but it was _hers_. Michelle's car! And it meant freedom!

Holy Fuck, wasn't freedom absolutely class!

Orla's head was cocked outside the window in the front seat, feeling the breeze on her hair and face as they whizzed past the city walls. All she was missing was the silk scarf and the goggles and she could've easily been taken for a Derry-born _firmly-on-land_ (thank christ!) Amelia Earhart!

"Whheeeeeeeeee."

Michelle smirked from behind the wheel, nodding at her friend's reaction approvingly as the needle on car's speedometer hit the magic hundred. "That's the stuff, Orla. That's what we like to see!"

She threw a dirty look at the other three in the rear view mirror. Pack of dryshites; that was what she had in her back seat!

"Fucked if I know what's up with ye!"

As though to punctuate her point, Michelle revved up the engine...leaving a trail of dark exhaust fumes in her wake.

Erin's eyes looked just about fit to pop straight out of her head. She pointed furiously at the front window. She may have been well used to her Granda's reckless driving, but this was a whole other level.

"Eyes on the road, Michelle!"

Scoffing, Michelle rolled her eyes and grudgingly returned her attention to the road. "Jesus Erin, don't be such a craic killer. Clare'll be out of her job."

Sat between the two blonde haired girls, James looked more than a little green about the gills. Clearly worried about their friend, he waved a hand in front of Clare's glassy eyes.

"I think Clare might have gone into shock actually."

The aforementioned blonde shook violently, her gaze far away and her teeth chattering like she was smack bang in the middle of _Ant-fuckin'-arctica._ "D-d-don't want to die..."

Michelle snorted, never able to understand how her girls (James included) were such bloody awful drama queens...the worst in all of Derry!

"Yer not goin' die, Clare. Don't go gettin' your fanny in a flap."

Erin scrambled across James's lap to properly observe their friend. Clare just continued to stare blankly ahead, awaiting impending doom. _Christ, had they broken her?_

"Jaysus, she's spaced out!", Erin unhelpfully diagnosed, smacking the smaller blonde lightly across the cheeks. "Wakey wakey. C'mon, Clare."

James continued to watch both of the two girls in concern, absentmindedly rubbing his stomach...looking greener and greener. "I don't feel all that well."

Michelle sniggered, not even bothering to look at her friends or her cousin because something a whole lot better had captured her attention. Three o' clock, just to her right... _fan-fuckin'-tastic!_

Slowing somewhat before ramming down hard on the breaks ( _she wasn't a fucking animal, like!)_ , Michelle brought the car to a loud and skidding halt.

Even after been hurled upwards into the air, Orla McCool was still living her best life. The gang sitting in back? Well. _..not so much._

Loosing her grip, Erin floundered wildly to remain grounded. James lurched forward, his forehead colliding with the side of her head, before he quickly grabbed her around the waist...somehow managing to keep them both seated.

"Fuck's Sake!", Erin spluttered, landing solidly in James's lap. She rubbed her head, eyeing where the two of them had just collided. "Are you a'right, Love?"

James nodded dazedly, arms coming shakily around her. He still looked fit to boke his face off. "I think so."

The whole ordeal seemed enough to jolt Clare back to the present, leaving Michelle at the receiving end of three rather hostile looking death stares.

_For the Love of God, the crap she had to deal with!_

"Sweet Sufferin' Jesus, Michelle!", Clare scolded, taking in her surroundings for the first time since her friend hit the seventy mark. "Are you actually trying to get us killed?"

Completely ignoring the small blonde's protestations and the newly-fledged couple starting to fuss over each other's matching forehead bruises, Michelle took in the fine sight up ahead.

"Look Girls, two fine lookin' rides comin' my way!"

Orla beamed, still recovering from what had basically been a roller-coaster. ( _Thorpe Park, eat your fucking heart out! This was the real shit!)._ She beamed, looking positively ecstatic.

"That was absolutely cracker!"

Michelle grinned wickedly in appreciation, waving at the two boys standing several yards ahead.

"Micheal Fuckin' Schumacher, I am", she agreed fervently, flicking on the radio in search of a killer tune to match her killer mood.

Clare scowled, not finding any part of their situation amusing. She settled back in her seat, arms crossed defiantly. "No arguments from me."

The car's dodgy radio sprung to life, the long anticipated announcement _(rather than the usual bangers by Take That!)_ forcing them all to sit up and listen.

_"... It has been a historic day at Stormont. After two years of talks and a generation of bloodshed and decades of division and acrimony, we can now begin to usher in what the whole island hopes will be a new era of peace..."_

The sat dumbfounded in silence, not really sure what to do with themselves as the car continued to roll forward. The boys, the bruises, the fretting and the speeding were momentarily forgotten in light of this new shift in their lives. 

_Was it all really over? Were things really going to change?_

_Not a baldies..._

_(but somehow it did!)_


End file.
